


A New Routine

by round_robin



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Sex, Background Eskel/Lambert - Freeform, Background Geralt/Eskel, Background Geralt/Eskel/Lambert, Background Relationships, Breathplay, Kaer Morhen, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), M/M, Oral Sex, Winter At Kaer Morhen, Wolf Pack, minor breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26735653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: “What the fuck are you doing here?” Lambert groaned.Geralt looked up to see that little shit standing on top of the walls, leering down at him. He blinked. “I live here. Open up.”With an exaggerated sigh, Lambert hopped down, disappearing behind the gate. The large doors opened a moment later, revealing Lambert standing there, hands on hips, looking very disappointed for some fucking reason. “You're never home this early. Lets me have a few days of alone time before you and Eskel start moaning and groaning all winter.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert
Comments: 31
Kudos: 233





	A New Routine

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Anarchycox and RawrkinJD as we discussed how much we all appreciate Lambet/Geralt. I posted this on my tumblr a little while ago, but I'm slowly migrating all those stories over here as well.
> 
> I love Lambert, I've made no secret of this, and I really enjoy his dynamic with Geralt. Eskel seems like the buffer between them, and this is just a little look at what it can be like when that buffer is gone: still hot, but a little rough around the edges. The Geralt/Eskel, and the Geralt/Eskel/Lambert is just mentioned, but I want everyone to know, they are all very much enjoying each other all winter, but this story is just about Lambert and Geralt. Please enjoy <3

Geralt was a creature of habit. He stored his gear the exact same way every time like Witchers were taught (Eskel was just as meticulous, but Lambert was a fucking mess, lost the last of his bear fat one contract and had to do without specter oil on a fucking wraith job) he cleaned his armor in the exact same order every time, he headed towards Kaer Morhen on the same day every year, and he even named every single horse Roach. Consistency was key to the success of a Witcher. Geralt wasn't just considered one of the best for his strength, speed and extra mutations, he was the best because he was meticulous and always prepared.

He really should have known something was wrong when he ended up three days ahead of schedule. The contract he took for a possible werewolf turned out to be a pack of wild dogs with a strangely regular schedule (the irony) and the town paid him half for getting rid of them. Ten wild dogs were not as dangerous as a werewolf and Geralt didn't argue, and being a little lighter on coin than usual made heading towards Kaer Morhen early all the more appealing.

Three days seemed to make a world of difference. The weather was much milder, saving him a whole day on the climb. He arrived at the gates mid-morning, four whole days earlier than usual. Just as visions of extra rest started filling his head, a familiar voice sliced through the air.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Lambert groaned.

Geralt looked up to see that little shit standing on top of the walls, leering down at him. He blinked. “I live here. Open up.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Lambert hopped down, disappearing behind the gate. The large doors opened a moment later, revealing Lambert standing there, hands on hips, looking very disappointed for some fucking reason. “You're never home this early. Lets me have a few days of alone time before you and Eskel start moaning and groaning all winter.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “You say that like we don't invite you to join every night.” School of the Wolf was always a pack, even before the destruction of their keep and the death of their brothers. Lambert spent most of the winter huddled up in Geralt's bed, snoring loudly as he and Eskel _moaned and groaned_ , as he put it. He participated too, Eskel sucking on his tongue while Geralt plunged two fingers into both of them. He didn't know why Lambert was complaining, probably just to be a shit. “Besides, I'm not going to bother you. Have as much alone time as you want.”

He headed inside, Lambert trailing in his wake. For someone who just professed a want for alone time, Lambert was almost attached to Geralt's ass as they walked. He tried to ignore him as he got Roach settled. Lambert did not offer to help, simply stood by, watching Geralt lug his bags into the keep. It was fine, he carried his own things in every year, just never with an audience.

The front hall was a little colder than normal, not all the fires lit for the season. And quieter than normal. Geralt only heard Lambert's heart and soft breath. They appeared to be alone. “Where's Vesemir?”

“Supply run.” Only now did Lambert pull Geralt's saddle bags off his shoulder, turning towards the stairs. “You know I don't cook, so it's whatever you can find night. Vesemir won't be back until tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Geralt ate half stale trail rations on his way up, even the last of Vesemir's bread and cheese stores were better, he wasn't exactly going to starve in his own keep.

Lambert helped bring his things up to his room and he noticed the fire was already going. Ah, Vesemir was too good to them. It made up for spending the rest of winter shouting at them in morning training. “Saw you on the mountain yesterday,” Lambert said. “The Old Wolf was already out, so I set the fire for you. I know how you like it toasty in here.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You prepared my room?”

Lambert said nothing and dropped Geralt's bags on the floor. “I'm headed down to the hot springs.” Mmm, a bath did sound nice. But Geralt didn't want to intrude on Lambert's so called 'alone time.' “See you down there,” Lambert said before turning and jogging out of the room.

Was that... did he just invite Geralt to join him? It definitely wasn't unheard of, if they all weren't in Geralt's bed, they were splashing in the heated mineral water that gushed through the very heart of their mountain, but Lambert said he wanted to be alone. _Don't listen to his words_ , Geralt remembered Eskel saying time and time again. _Watch what he does_. Eskel was the smartest among them (though Lambert would never admit it) and his level head guided Geralt more than _he_ cared to admit. They'd always been close, so Geralt never had to ask questions about their relationship. He asked questions about their relationship with Lambert all the time, and Eskel usually had words of wisdom on it.

“We have each other, but he has _us_.” Eskel was fond of saying. Geralt had no clue what that meant. All the same, he put away his things and headed down to the hot spring, knowing Lambert was waiting.

He opened the door and took a moment to let the sticky humidity settle on his skin. The few years Coën stayed with them, he admitted he missed Kaer Seren deeply, but nothing compared to the Kaer Morhen hot springs.

“Took you long enough,” Lambert said, breaking the mood.

Geralt opened his eyes and sighed, stripping off and climbing into the water. Lambert lounged on the other side of the pool, leaning back on both arms braced on top of the stone ledge. His eyes skated over Geralt, waiting patiently while he cleaned himself. Well, Lambert didn't do anything _patiently_ , but he did wait instead of jumping on Geralt. He appreciated that.

Once he'd scrubbed the worst of the sweat and dirt from his skin, Geralt wasted no time swimming over and pinning Lambert to the edge of the pool. A quick breath and a cock twitching against his thigh told him all he needed to know. Geralt pressed their chests together, planting his hands on the ledge beside Lambert's, and pushed a thigh between his legs, pinning him to the wall of the pool. He arched an eyebrow, meeting Lambert's mischievous gaze head on. “I'm not Eskel. I need words. What do you want from me tonight?” To be honest, Geralt was a little in awe of it, watching Eskel play Lambert's body like a fiddle, drawing moans and curses from that snarky mouth without having to ask what he liked, Eskel just _knew_.

As usual, said snarky mouth did not disappoint. Jammed against the wall, mostly trapped in place, Lambert smirked. “Anything you want, big boy.”

Geralt didn't know what made him do it. Maybe it was the little flicker in Lambert's eyes, the one he only saw on cold winter nights when Lambert climbed between his legs and directed Geralt to push his head down, almost choking him with his cock; or maybe it was the slowly dawning reality that he was stuck alone with Lambert for a whole night. Without the buffer of Eskel smoothing them both out, they tended to ram into each other like two bucks fighting. Only they weren't fighting for a mate, they were fighting over Lambert's ass and how long he'd play around before letting Geralt have it.

“Deep breath.” It was the only warning he gave before pushing Lambert under the water. Still crowded into the wall, Lambert's arms flailed for a moment before latching onto Geralt's hips and steadying himself. Lips found Geralt's cock without great difficulty—there was a lot of it to find—and Lambert quickly got to work. His tongue lashed across the head and Geralt groaned.

Fingers slipped against now slick skin, but he managed to shift his grip, keeping Lambert under with one hand while the other threaded through his hair, holding him to Geralt's cock. There was a little squirming and thrashing to begin with, their movements disturbing the calm spring water, but Lambert soon found a rhythm. Geralt knew his lung capacity, knew how long this could go on before he needed to let Lambert up, but fuck if Lambert wasn't trying to distract him. That wicked tongue that spat curses and snark in equal measure wrapped around the head of his cock before teasing his slit, almost pushing in. One of Lambert's hands slid off his hip and traveled down between his legs, stroking over his balls and squeezing just right.

Geralt didn't know how long Lambert had been under the water. His mouth was still going, licking, sucking, being fucking annoyingly good at everything, but he let up anyway. Lambert broke the surface of the water and pressed their chests together, biting Geralt's bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. “That was uncalled for.” He nipped the same spot again, earning him a growl.

“You said anything I wanted. I wanted you to shut up.”

Lambert licked the small dribbled of blood welling on Geralt's lip. “More than one way to shut me up.” He gave Geralt a little shove, then turned around, hauling himself half out of the spring so his legs were still in the water, but his glorious, tight ass hanging off the edge, chest flat against the warm rocks. The ledge was too high for Geralt to mount Lambert, the implication of the positon obvious.

Running his thumb down Lambert's cleft, dipping between his cheeks, Geralt growled. “I make you come, then we go upstairs and I make you _moan_.”

The little huffed laugh was nothing like Lambert's usual cheeky chuckles met Geralt's ears. “Yeah, that's the game.”

Geralt stood up out of the water for a moment to push Lambert's head down, dragging his hand the length of his spine before spreading his cheeks. That tight, pink pucker twitched under the scrutiny and Geralt licked his lips. “Not a sound,” he said, then ran the flat of his tongue across Lambert's hole.

While Lambert might seem like an undisciplined ass, he was still a Witcher, in possession of all the control and grace that implied. His skin quivered under the firm press of one large hand on the small of his back, thighs twitching as Geralt licked and sucked at his rim, pushing his tongue in before pulling back to lick over his cheeks, biting the tender skin where thigh met ass.

Geralt smelled blood in the air and smirked. Lambert must've bitten his lip to keep from moaning. He took pity on him and stopped the feather light licks. Sticking his tongue as deep as he could, Geralt forced a hand between Lambert and the warm stone, gripping his cock and stroking firmly. It didn't take long for him to spill across the rocks, body going boneless. Geralt pressed a kiss to each of Lambert's cheeks before pulling him back into the spring. He left the streak of come there, he'd probably clean it later before Vesemir found it and yelled at them.

He licked into Lambert's mouth, tasting blood and finding the torn inside of his cheek, already healing. “You tried so hard to be quiet.” Lambert let his mouth fall open, inviting Geralt in to lick the blood away. Once he didn't taste any small coppery trace, Geralt pulled back, rubbing their noses together. “Come on, I'll make you shout now. Make you blow out your voice for the rest of winter.” Geralt looped one arm around Lambert's hips and pulled him from the water.

They dried off quickly, some water still lingering under arms and across their backs, leaving wet spots on their clothes as they ran back upstairs. They didn't bother lacing or buttoning anything, they weren't going to be dressed for long. As soon as the door to Geralt's room closed, he pushed Lambert's against it, one hand diving into his open breeches, the other curling around his throat. Geralt didn't squeeze—yet—but the promise had Lambert's eyes rolling back in pleasure.

Eskel had a better handle on Lambert's specific desires, he knew just how to touch and pet to make him coo and melt into the bed. Geralt was getting a better idea, slowly learning what Lambert wanted from him. He liked to watch Geralt's hands, a shiver running through him whenever they got close to his throat.

Stripping them both, he dragged Lambert over to the bed, pausing to grab the oil from his bag. When he unpacked, he couldn't figure out if Lambert really wanted sex, or wanted to tease, so he didn't set it on the bedside table, but left it on top of his bag, still accessible but not too obvious how much he wanted to rail Lambert into next spring.

Already warmed up from the hot spring and the thorough tonguing, two of Geralt's thick fingers slipped in without a problem. Lambert bit his lip, hips bucking. Geralt smirked, running his tongue across his teeth in a predatory smile. “I want you to shout now. Put that mouth to use.”

“ _Fuck_ , yes.” The words exploded out of Lambert. “I want to feel you. More, give me more, I want everything you have.”

Geralt added more oil and a third finger, earning more broken moans and curses. Lambert's body clenched around him and a low growl built in his chest. That was enough prep, he needed Lambert _now_. Pouring oil across his cock, Geralt hooked a hand behind Lambert's neck and dragged him up to the head of the bed. Sitting back, he let Lambert arrange himself across his lap, holding his cock steady.

As soon as he felt his head notch into Lambert's hole, he growled again. “Slow. Let me see it.”

Lambert let out a small puff of laughter, but did as asked. Spreading his cheeks, he slowly lowered himself onto Geralt's cock. As each inch disappeared inside Lambert, Geralt grew hungrier and hungrier, licking his lips. “Fuck, that's beautiful.”

Once Lambert was fully seated, Geralt pulled him in again. Chest to chest, he slipped one arm under Lambert's strong thigh, the other stroking up and down his back before gripping tight to the back of his neck. They stared into each other's eyes, heat crackling between them as moan after filthy moan dropped from Lambert's lips. Geralt snapped his hips up at a brutal pace, bracing his feet on the bed to get more leverage. Lambert wrapped shaky fingers around his cock and pulled like his life depended on it.

It all ended in an explosion, Geralt thrust _hard_ and watched Lambert start to crumble, his own climax following on the blissful sight of Lambert's slack jaw.

As soon as Lambert came, his body went boneless and pliant. Geralt caught him quickly, lowering him onto the bed before pulling out. He didn't have time to set up his room before joining Lambert in the hot spring, but it looked like there was a fresh pitcher of water next to the wash basin. Wetting a cloth, he carefully cleaned Lambert, being extra tender between his cheeks; Geralt knew how hard he was going, and Lambert seemed to enjoy every minute of it.

He slumped back into bed and wrapped around Lambert, pulling the younger Witcher's head into his chest. “You gonna be this annoying until Eskel gets here?” he asked.

“Probably.” He nosed at Geralt's chest, nipping softly at too firm muscles. “Then, when he gets here, he can watch.”

“Hmm.” Geralt grunted and rubbed his face through Lambert's still wet hair. Maybe he should come to Kaer Morhen early every year.


End file.
